Delicacy. Poem by Rajan T Renganathan

With a delicacy that's rare,
shall we lay down, stripped and bare?
mere touch of skin, warm and soft,
will raise the passion, aloft,
our bodies move with each kiss
and delicate caress, no need to impress.
the rhythm flows slowly and steadily,
building up to new highs and lows.
as we explore every inch with grace,
time will take its course, no need to race.
a symphony of breaths and charm,
till we lose ourselves in each other's arms.
who knows the delicacy as an art,
everyone rushes on from the very start,
let our bodies entwine in a passionate dance,
till we revel in each other's wonderful bliss of chance.